


The Motel Room, aka Bicentennial Blowjob

by Daisy_Morgan



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Episode: s02e8 The Specialist, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 20:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20459054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Morgan/pseuds/Daisy_Morgan
Summary: What if I hadn’t dropped my keys in the Torino? Hutch and me would have been blown sky high, and not the good kind of blown, either.





	The Motel Room, aka Bicentennial Blowjob

We were sitting ducks. Our anxiety was ramping up and the tedium of spending the past several hours in a cheap motel room was really getting to me. I got claustrophobia, so I don’t do well in those types of situations. My nerves were already wrecked so the last thing I needed was to be cooped up in a small room, starin’ at the time on my watch, even if it was with Hutch.

So I played a game with myself: What If.

_What if me and Hutch get ourselves killed by a highly-trained assassin who never failed at his job?_

_What if this is our last day on earth?_

_What if we were horny (well OK, what if I was horny) and bored and anxious, and we just wanted to let off some steam so we could be ready to take on Alex Drew without our nerves being completely shot?_

_What if……..?_

We had become increasingly more tense and edgy after Alex killed Mac, then Mac’s partner Carl. Now he was after me and Hutch. He almost got us, too. That was what really did it. And according to Cole, Alex never failed at his job. Ever. We blew up at both him and Dobey after we found the bomb in my car. I mean, how in the hell did the guy manage to plant that bomb, in the goddamn police garage, for chrissakes!

So as the week went on, not only did my anxiety increase, but curiously, I started to feel more and more horny. I guess expecting to die in a horrific explosion or taken out by a high-powered sniper’s rifle mighta had somethin’ to do with it. As I lay on the bed in the motel room, I thought about Hutch in the locker room earlier that week. At the time, I was only half-payin’ attention to the sight of his smooth bare chest, because I’d seen it a gazillion times before, and I really was thinkin’ about _What Ifs_ and such. But I did sorta notice how his soft, skin-tight green t-shirt emphasized his muscles even more than before he put it on.

I had looked Hutch up and down outside the Center for Bodily Invigoration, but it was almost subconscious; I don’t think I was aware I was doing it. It was right after Hutch mentioned appreciating a “well-conditioned body.” Jesus, I really needed some relief before this week was over.

So I sat on the floor between the twin beds and rested my gun on my stomach. Against police procedure, I know. Very dangerous. But I needed Hutch to know. By then I also needed Hutch, if you know what I mean. He was wearing the same green t-shirt he wore the other day. Like he was teasing me.

But I couldn’t tell what Hutch was thinking, because he was pretending to be busy reading the motel bible. Maybe he was trying to purge impure thoughts from his mind. Or maybe it was only me who had impure thoughts. I hoped not.

Wouldn’t that just have taken the cake? If I walked around horny all damn week and at the end of it, the only thing I succeeded in doing was gettin’ my head blown off? And not that kind of head, either.

So _what if_ I spread my legs and just stayed like that? And _what if_ Hutch came over to me (_and came on me_), and leaned his head down, and …….?

I had groped Sally Hagen when she stood next to me in the squad room. I couldn’t help it. I had always been attracted to her, and I was so horny. But was it really Sally that I wanted? I thought about that after we were almost blown sky-high in the police garage, after I had finally calmed down.

We ate our lunches sitting on the beds, or at least Hutch did. I was so stressed out I could barely eat. Besides, it was mostly lettuce. But somehow I managed to doze off, I guess due to sheer boredom. Man, I had the craziest dreams. Popcorn exploding everywhere and fountains bubbling up like massive ejaculating geysers. Mac’s car bursting into a ball of hot flames. The long thick hose from the fire engine was spurting warm water everywhere, but for some reason, it was milky-colored instead of clear. I even dreamed of poor Carl, moaning and gasping from the poison as he fell to the floor, his mouth twisted in what looked like orgasmic ecstasy. There was a man cleaning a pool using a telescoping vacuum pole who was frantically pumping it up and down like he was givin' it a hand job. And I dreamed of Hutch in the locker room, only instead of pullin’ that green t-shirt over his head, he was takin’ it off.

_What if?_

We used the tissues to clean up. Hutch went to the bathroom to wash his face, then threw the towel that had touched his mouth so it landed on my face. It reminded me of our kiss, just after Hutch took my gun and placed it on the bed.

I had put my hand on Hutch’s head and caressed his flaxen hair. It was strange at first, because I had caressed Hutch’s head many times before, like when he was strung out from heroin and I was holding him in my arms, on the bed. But this was different.

I loved Hutch more than I had ever loved any woman, I thought to myself. We were already so intimate with each other with our emotions. We had touched almost every part of each other’s bodies. Why should this be different? And besides, there was a better than average chance we would be dead by nighttime. It was now or never. At least I would die happy. And I don’t just mean because I’d have gotten laid or whatever. I mean because it would be Hutch.

As if reading my thoughts, Hutch looked up from his bible and saw me sitting with my legs spread apart like I was readying myself for a pelvic exam. I had each foot propped up on a twin bed. And I saw he noticed my gun, placed just so on my stomach. It was pointing at him.

Just then, Dobey came in and crashed our little party. We had left the door unlocked, which was stupid even if we never even so much as kissed. But I guess we figured that Alex Drew wasn’t just gonna saunter in here. Hutch seemed relieved at first but then he seemed to grow increasingly impatient for Dobey to leave. I saw beads of sweat break out on his forehead. So that was a good sign.

And when Dobey finally left, the gun was still perched on my stomach, still pointing at Hutch. And my legs still spread. It was such a provocative pose, and yet Dobey hadn’t even noticed. Which is pretty funny if you think about it. I stayed like that the whole time just to tease Hutch, to see if I could make him break a sweat. So I won that round.

I had groped Sally Hagen right in the middle of the squad room. Not a friendly pat on the ass with a file folder, either. Of course, I did that too, to another female cop. But then, I went for broke when were inside the Chapel of Bodily Invigoration. I told Hutch I was in the mood for tails. That could have more than one meaning, you know. Did I want to score with a woman? Or did I want to be on the receiving end of Hutch? I knew which one I meant. Kinda fantasized about it while we were doin’ that collapse-and-drag thing, as he held me from behind and wrapped his arms around me, my shirt coming untucked and my low-waisted jeans down low.

And then when we were sittin' on Flashy Floyd's desk, I couldn't believe what I was seein'! I mean, he kept putting his hand on Hutch's thigh, like he could read my thoughts and was tryin' to tempt me. Well that sealed the deal for me.

And besides, it’s not Sally Hagen I’m in love with. When I said "tails," Hutch had responded with “You got it.” That made me excited, but I wasn’t sure if he knew what he was responding to.

I flirted with the “massage therapist” too. Right in front of Hutch. There was no way he couldn’t know how horny I was, right?

Hutch blinked his eyes and shook his head, as if he wanted to clear up any confusion he was feeling. I thought I saw him start to shake a little. Maybe he was just nervous because it would be our first time.

Then he just stared at me, at the gun on my stomach, and I stared back at him, holding his gaze. We were running out of time, so I put my hand on the gun and started fondling it.

I fantasized that Hutch was getting all tingly and his heart was beating faster. I couldn’t tell for sure, unless he came closer (_came, mmm_) but his eyes got wider than the full moon and he gulped like he had something caught in his throat (_yes,_ _hopefully soon_).

Then he swallowed, breathed deeply, put down the bible, and walked over to me. He stood in front of me, between my legs, looking down at the gun.

He knelt down and said softly, “What are you doin’ with that gun, Starsk?”

I continued to slowly fondle the gun as I stared at Hutch, not answering. I hoped he was playing my game and he wasn’t really that dense. You know?

“Let’s put this thing on the bed, OK buddy?”

“Sure,” I said, still not knowing if he was picking up on my clues.

When Hutch picked up the gun, his fingers brushed against my swollen groin. Jesus. Did he do that on purpose? I couldn’t be entirely sure.

Then he placed the gun on my bed, facing away from us, while still kneeling down in front of me.

But he didn’t make any other moves, so I said to him,

“You ever think _what if_ Hutch? Like _what if_ we die tonight?

_What if_ we’re so nervous when we leave here that we’re not at the top of our game? In a little while, Dobey is gonna call us and we’re gonna have to walk over to the restaurant. Without any cover. We’ll be like animals in a shooting gallery. We have no way of knowing what method Alex is planning to kill us with, only we know it won’t be a car bomb since we ain’t got no car with us. Cole said he had access to the most sophisticated weapons known, and was highly skilled in the use of all of them.

So we need to be prepared. We need to be able to concentrate and anticipate each of Alex’s moves before he does. I don’t think I can do that right now, Hutch. Because I’m too anxious. We been sittin’ in this motel room all day and the confinement is startin’ to get to me. I think I need to let off some steam."

I said all those things quickly, one after another, staring directly at him, while Hutch just stared back and listened. It wasn’t like Hutch not to say something. We were both sweating now.

Which one of us was gonna break first?

Then Hutch said, in a low throaty voice, “What if you hadn’t dropped your keys?”

That was it. He leaned into me and I leaned into him and all of a sudden our lips were pressed together and we were kissing. And it was magical.

Even though I had wanted it all day, all week, wanted HIM, I never thought about what it would actually feel like to kiss him. I hadn’t thought about us kissing at all. I guess I thought we’d just bang each other or something and that would be that. It never occurred to me that kissing him could be so amazing.

Then I slipped my tongue in his mouth. Never thought I’d do that either. Never thought he would taste so good.

Hutch moaned and reached for my belt buckle. My hands fell away, leaving the buckle for Hutch to do with as he pleased. I managed to croak out the words “Lock the door.”

Hutch got up and did as he was told.

He came back and undid my buckle, staring at it single-mindedly as he did so. When he lifted his head, he saw me staring at him. God, he’s so hot, I thought. How did I not realize that until now? I mean, I’ve always flirted with him and called him beautiful and cute and all that. But this, this was different. I put my hands in his shiny blond hair and started caressing his hair, his head, his neck. His locks were so silky and soft, like softened butter.

Hutch opened the button on my (admittedly) too-tight jeans and undid the fly. I helped him by pulling out my semi-hard cock from the confines of my underwear. Even if I had wanted to take it slow, we needed to do this quickly, before Dobey called us and we had to walk the long mile.

I saw Hutch’s eyes grow wide at the sight of my cock. Then he placed his hand around it and together we watched it grow bigger and stiffer. Felt it grow bigger in his firm grasp. A little “oh” escaped from Hutch’s lips. A big “oh” escaped from mine.

Hutch leaned closer. For just a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Maybe he was thinking he wasn’t sure what to do, didn’t know how to do it. I could see him probably thinking to himself, _Hutchinson, what have you gotten yourself into? You don’t even know how to do this_.

So I helped him. I pushed his head down and thrust my hips back and forth. He took it from there. And it was beautiful. He was beautiful.

My cock swelled in his mouth as he moved his head up and down, slowly at first, then faster. Despite our short timeframe, I didn’t want him to rush, because fate could decide that this could be the first and last time for both of us.

Then Hutch took his hand and gripped and squeezed the hard shaft of my cock. I made no sound except loud breathing through my nose. I didn’t know if anyone was in the room next door who might possibly hear us. But I think the sound of my breathing turned Hutch on, because he began to move faster up and down, up and down, but not too fast, didn’t want it be over too quickly.

Moving his head up and down rhythmically. Then licking me with his tongue, all around. Squeezing and gripping my cock. I began to make little moaning noises, I couldn’t help it.

Then I realized that Hutch was moaning too. My hands had been caressing his silken blond locks while he went down on me. I loved his hair so much, his head, his neck. His mouth felt so good on my cock, it was unbelievable. _I love you. I really hope we don’t die tonight, because I want to do the same thing to you tomorrow._

I was nearing it. Couldn’t hold off any longer. I let out a loud grunt and gushed all over the back of Hutch’s throat. For a second, I wondered if he would try to spit it out, as the women usually did. They almost never wanted to swallow; said it tasted “yucky,” like hydrogen peroxide. But Hutch did. He swallowed all of it, all of ME. Just a tiny bit of my jizz trickled down outside his mouth and onto his chin.

Then he withdrew his mouth but kept his hand on me, feeling my cock start to soften and shrink. I think he didn’t want to let go just yet. He leaned forward and rested his head against mine. Somehow, he seemed more exhausted than me. Neither of us moved for a few minutes. The only sound in the room was our heavy breathing and our beating hearts.

Then I kissed Hutch on the forehead and said “Thanks, partner. I think we better get ready for dinner now. Dobey will be calling any minute. And if we survive tonight, maybe I can repay you tomorrow.” Hutch nodded and smiled, then kissed me on the lips. It was soft this time, and sweet.

Then he rose up, took my hand, and helped me to my feet. “You OK? Can you stand?” he asked me.

I said, “Maybe I oughta lay down for a few minutes. That took everything outta me.” Just as I lay down on the bed, I spied the box of tissues.

Hutch went into the bathroom to clean up. When he came out, he was drying his mouth with a hand towel. By then, I was contentedly blowing tissues in the air (_blowing, hee hee_). Hutch caught one in mid-air and threw the damp towel onto my face.

The phone rang. Hutch grabbed the receiver with the tissue still in hand. Dobey’s voice was on the other end.

It was time.

Man, I sure do hope we make it to tomorrow.

****The End****

**Author's Note:**

> So go ahead, watch The Specialist now. Whether you've seen it recently or haven't seen it in 40 years; whether you've watched it once or five times, go ahead and watch it again. 
> 
> Look at the expression on Carl's face and the sounds he makes as he's dying. Notice the guy vacuuming the pool outside the motel and what he's doing with the long wand. Watch the motel room scene with the tissues and towel, over and over. 
> 
> You won't be able to un-see it.


End file.
